


Wait For It

by blingblingis



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Character Analysis, F/M, Implied hanky panky, M/M, Suicide mention, but it's talked about briefly, gender neutral reader, tumblr prompt request
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-20
Updated: 2017-10-20
Packaged: 2019-01-20 02:29:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12423213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blingblingis/pseuds/blingblingis
Summary: A request from my tumblr to write a Hanzo/Reader drabble based off of Hamilton's "Wait For It"





	Wait For It

**Author's Note:**

> "Hiya! I don't know if you like musicals or not, but I just love the idea of this song for Hanzo: Wait For It from Hamilton? Could I see a little Drabble based off that song where Hanzo is just so in awe of his partner?"
> 
> oooooooohhhhhhhhhhh my god Wait For It is my favorite song from Hamilton and Hanzo is my favorite character so oh my god yes I’d love to do a drabble based off of it.
> 
> This…got away from me and ended up being less about relationships and more about Hanzo as a character. I’m sorry T_T I just have a lot of feelings about my boy. I hope you enjoy anyway!!
> 
> My imagines blog can be found [here!](https://moreheroimagines.tumblr.com/) I'm almost always taking requests!

Hanzo was tired. Not just physically, though the exhaustion soaking deep into his bones was a very present feature. But his mind and his soul felt weary, far too old for his body. He felt ageless and yet time worn. Since he had murdered his little brother he had been vehemently ignoring the ironic similarities between the legend his family told and his own sorry fate. The only problem was the legend ended happily, his story felt like it just kept spiraling into the depths of despair.

Honestly he would be lying if he said he hadn’t considered taking his own life after what he did to Genji. Some foolish part of him claims that that would regain his honor. But there is no one alive to atone to. His parents are gone and he has slain his brother with his own hand. No one can grant him redemption, he must find it on his own.

And then he met you. He tried to ignore you at first, but life kept throwing the two of you together so fed-up and annoyed he decided to just go with the flow. Obviously his problems were not instantly fixed by your mere presence but you did bring something to his world he had been lacking. Hope. And if he was being honest it annoyed the absolute shit out of him how you could always see the bright side of things. At first. 

And so your relationship began with him speaking to you only when necessary and doing his damnedest to ignore the shining light that you gave off. Like a beacon or a lighthouse. He wasn’t a fucking ship you could lead to safe harbor. He was a man who had committed atrocities that he perceived to be unforgivable. He was ready to shoot down any bullshit speeches you spewed at him. But surprisingly none came.

You smiled at him, pointed out when good things were happening and reminded him that good things were still happening even if all he could see was a deep mire of shit that he was waist deep in. He kept expecting it but you never pushed him too far, you never preached obnoxiously, you only stayed by his side and kept him afloat when he felt like drowning. But you never carried all his weight either. You helped him just enough so that he wouldn’t give in to despair and let him do the rest on his own, knowing there were some things that must be done by yourself.

At some point his view of you changed. Instead of rolling his eyes every time you piped up with something cheery he would study you. The way your lips twitched when you smiled in the face of sorrow, the way your eyes went just a little distant as if you were looking into the future...or the past. One night when the ghosts of his past came to haunt him in his dreams he awoke screaming only to find you there. You offered instant and easy comfort, uncaring that your relationship thus far had not been anything more than tolerable companionship. He was weary again and had not the strength to keep his tongue in check.

“How do you do it?” he rasped, lifting his head from where it lay on your shoulder.

“Hmm?” you hummed, brushing strands of sweat-damp hair from his face.

“How do you always ignore the pain you feel? How can you look at the world and not see if for the festering wound that it is?” He bit his tongue, cutting himself off before the question he truly wanted answered could pass his lips. How can you look at me and see anything more than a monster who murdered his own brother? 

A small, sad smile lit your lips, “I don’t ignore it. I feel it every single second of every day. But finding the joy and happiness where I can is a much better alternative to only feeling that pain.” You paused, letting what you said sink in. “I know the world sucks, I don’t need to look at it to see that, I’ve lived it. So if the world sucks then I will find little joys where they crop up. I choose to see the beauty rather than suffer in the pain.” You bit your lip and looked away, shadows crossing your face. “Though I know my way of thinking won’t work for everyone. You have to find a way to make it your own, a reason to keep going. And the fact that you’ve asked me how I do it tells me that you want to.” you murmured, turning your gaze back to him at last.

He kissed you then. Looking back on it now he can’t remember making the conscious decision to do it, he just wanted to feel you. He wanted to know you. He wanted to swallow the words from your lips, maybe then he could understand how to see the world the way you did. He had surpassed wanting to know, he needed to know. Needed to see what you saw especially when you looked at him. Because you never looked at him like he was a monster and he wanted that for himself.

And in the middle of the night in a hotel in some godforsaken city he can’t remember now he let go for the first time in years, or maybe ever. He breathed you in until the two of you were nothing more than tangled limbs and panting moans. Until no words fell from your lips but his name, repeated over and over like a mantra. He watched you in the throes of pleasure, how the moonlight spilled across your face. You seemed to glow with an otherworldly beauty he could not hope to capture. You seemed so far out of his reach even when you were physically in his arms.

And he slipped just a little deeper into despair.

When you woke in the morning it was alone, with nothing to keep you company but cold sheets, a hastily scrawled note on the pillow and an even colder heart. You would tell him years later that you cried that morning. He had never seen you cry, not back then, not when your heart looked so infallible from his position. You would tell him, too, that he had only seen it through his fogged looking glass, completely missing the cracks and jagged edges. And he would realize that he only saw what he chose to see.

He told himself that he fled because he needed to find that reason you talked about. And while that was true, he also ran because he was scared. Because change is terrifying. He had lived his whole life believing that he must live by a strict set of rules. And when you made him realize that people were allowed to grow and change and develop he couldn’t handle it. Not then. So he ran. He ran from the only person alive who cared for him, the only one left alive who wanted nothing but the best for him. That’s how he told himself it was alright. If this was to his benefit then you would understand, you would forgive him.

The days passed in a blur of too much. Weeks spent taking in sights he thought he thought he knew and understood, seeing them with new eyes. Months spent rationalizing his place in the world and what it all meant. Years spent coming to terms with who he was. Years spent finding his reason. Sometimes he wondered about you. Actually he wondered about you all the time, he would try to understand this new world he saw and wonder if you saw it the same way too. He would close his eyes at night and feel your skin under his fingertips, taste the heat of your kiss. And when nightmares plagued him he would pretend he could feel your comforting warmth beside him. And nearly everyday he cursed himself for not realizing sooner that he loved you, that that was a part of the reason he ran.

And then his brother returned. Back from the dead, but not to haunt him, to forgive him. And the wound was opened anew. Failure. He was a failure in every sense of the word. He failed to uphold his family’s honor, he failed to protect his little brother, and now apparently he failed to even carry out the order his clan had given him. For one horrifying moment he thought he should finish it, kill Genji and finally complete that mission. Then he wouldn’t be a failure. But he would. He swallowed back the impulse and Genji’s parting words and wondered if he had even changed at all.

That encounter hardened his resolve. What was it Genji had said? The world was changing once again and it’s time to pick a side. What had he been doing up until now? Standing still? Or was he lying in wait? And for what? A reason. And then it hit him like the eye of the storm, a moment of perfect clarity. A reason was his reason. His reason to go on was to find the purpose of all that happened around him. If there was a reason that he was still alive when so many had died then he was willing to wait for it.

Maybe he would pick a side, maybe he wouldn’t. But he knew he didn’t want to do it alone. It had been something like five years since he had seen you but he could remember everything about you perfectly. The way your eyes lit up when you smiled, the way laughter rolled from your tongue so easily and the way you looked at him like he was something important, like he had a purpose. It was then that he realized you had always known what it had taken him years to work out. There was a reason he was still alive. There was a reason for everything that happened. And you waited for it.

You waited almost half a decade. It wasn’t hard to find you. You made yourself known for whenever he decided to return. And you always believed he would. He found you, barely changed from the day you parted and absently he was a little worried about how you would react to the gray in his hair. He needn’t have worried, you didn’t care, and if you were being honest you sort of liked it anyway. He started to apologize and you stole the words from his lips, kissing him right then and there in a crowded street. People passed by, some stared and yet he couldn’t bring himself to care.

You might be angry but you clearly still loved him, just as he loved you. When you drew away for air you were smiling at him, “So...did you find your reason?” you asked breathlessly.

A smile tugged at his own lips, “Not yet. But I’m willing to wait for it.” Your eyes were alight as you bit your lip and laughed. Of course you knew.

He lived each day after that basking in the light you gave off instead of shielding his eyes with his hand. Maybe you were a lighthouse and he a ship lost at sea. Maybe it was okay not to know. He felt new. Like he could see things clearly that he had never noticed before. Like he could be himself. Or maybe try to be who he would have been without outside influences. He wanted to find the man he was made to be. And you would be there with him every step of the way. 

He would continue to be awestruck by you and the way you persevered despite everything trying to drag you down. And you would look at him with pride as he did the exact same thing. And when he cut his hair and got his piercings he would finally decide that it was okay not to know. It was okay to wait for your reason, your purpose. But he was starting to think he had found his.


End file.
